


Tell Me

by holyfant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-27
Updated: 2008-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyfant/pseuds/holyfant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lily needs someone she can talk to about what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [2008 Femmeslash Porn Battle](http://sinandmisery.livejournal.com/34672.html). Prompt: Lily/Alice, relief

The thing is, every time she tries to get through to him, James smiles and pushes those goofy glasses further up his nose – and then, she just _can’t_. Can’t say that his fumbling between her legs kills any mood they might’ve established before, that the way he kisses her with his tongue between her teeth reminds her more of a dog than of a lover, and that she always, always fakes. She remembers she used to like how he held himself dorkily and how he was so clumsy around her, as if he wasn’t sure how to handle her yet. The thing is she wants him to have learned by now, she wants him to have things figured out. He hasn’t. He hasn’t made her come, ever, and sometimes her body feels as if it’s teetering on some edge – she’s not sure what kind of edge. She finds refuge in solitary showers and magic-altered Muggle toys; and still, and still. She's always been red-blooded.

When it comes, Alice Longbottom’s owl surprises her. They were separated by two years in school and were never particularly close, though friendly. Alice’s owl reads: “Maybe you need to talk.”

Strangely enough, she does. So she goes, finding enough excuses to satisfy herself. It’s been some time. We need to catch up. She’s one of my few female acquaintances.

Alice is taller than she remembers, and as open-faced. They’re adults now, with husbands and homes and small daily struggles that are overshadowed by big world struggles, but Lily still feels childish standing before Alice Longbottom, who holds her shoulders in that particular elegant way that Lily always liked and smiles a smile that softens everything around them (even the war, for a moment, for a moment). Alice is barefoot, and Lily takes off her shoes in the hallway; it seems appropriate that way.

“Hi,” Lily says, and feels eleven years old.

“Hi,” Alice replies, and smiles that smile, and something happens inside Lily’s tense body, frustrated from yet another night of James with his glasses and his unskilled fingers. Something itches a little bit inside her.

There is talk of houses and children (“I’m not sure,” Alice says, “it seems cruel.”) and travelling and family (the part that is still there, not dead yet). There is no talk of who is gone or what is missing and yet Lily feels as if Alice sees through her calm skin to her turbulent heart, because Alice makes a point to touch Lily every time she reaches for the teapot (and even if she doesn’t). Alice makes a point to look at Lily in a way that is so clear even if Lily has never had anyone look at her like that before (not James, who wears his socks to bed and looks at her with a docile devotion that makes her want to scream).

There’s a silence as the safe subjects run out. Alice touches Lily in a spot that Lily doesn’t know how to name – her nose, but then it’s not, but it’s not really her cheek either. She feels Alice’s fingers brush against her lashes as she involuntarily closes her eyes.

“Lily,” Alice says (and oh she must be so close to make Lily’s skin tingle with her breath), “you have to tell me what you want.”

Lily gulps. “ _You_ asked me to come,” she says defensively (only she doesn’t know what it is she’s defending herself against – maybe herself, maybe the removal of her weak shell with a few words falling from shapely lips).

Alice laughs at that, throwing her head back and laughing freely (it’s only when Lily can’t stop looking at it that she realises she hasn’t seen anyone laugh like that in a long time – not like that, not with their tender throats exposed, not with the sound bouncing off the walls). Alice sobers. “Maybe, but you came.” It’s a childish thing to say, but Alice makes it sound like something to be said in grand halls, great rooms of light, maybe even the hollow of a woman’s throat (who shall say?).

She touches Lily again – this time on a identifiable spot: where her jaw stops and her neck begins, the weakness of her face bare under the armour of bone. Alice gently presses her fingers under the jaw bone and Lily is exposed, just like that, with two, three fingers pressing softly. “I’m honest about what I want,” Alice says and pulls Lily’s face to hers (instead of bringing how own to Lily’s – it’s how much she wants it and how she’s testing the boundaries already, this early into the game. Lily doesn’t think of it as a game, yet, but it’s a kiss and it’s a kiss like no other, openly sloppy with tongues slipping out and sliding over skin and plunging back inside. Alice’s throat is like a black hole). It’s just a kiss, but this sofa, this sorry-looking living room, this dark hideout in times of war is illuminated with it, the _sex_ , the promise, the kiss, Just Alice with her smile and her fingertips now tapping on Lily’s collarbones, finding the softness underneath.

“I could make you forget, but I think you’d rather remember,” Alice tells her (she doesn’t ask, because): It’s true. There is no forgetting for Lily, the relief lies in the clarity of it all, of the pain of looking everything straight in the eye. (Maybe this is why James falls short – he likes to leave the horror on their doorstep, while she needs to bask in it to let it go.)

So when Alice says: “Tell me what to do,” and smiles that smile, Lily almost comes right there, and her body is teetering on that edge again.

“Tell… tell you?” she sputters.

“I’ll do what you tell me to,” Alice confirms, removing her fingers from where they were sliding into Lily’s robe, “tell me to give you another cup of tea and I will. Tell me to leave you alone and I will. Tell me to fuck you until you don’t know where you are and I will.”

It’s like this: Alice giving her the options and Lily handling the scales – the wrongs, the rights, the pros the cons and oh how her throbbing cunt is a pro and how the rights outdo the wrongs (the wrongs: James wearing his socks to bed, his devotion – the rights: her body, finally sharing it with someone she wants, finally finding something that fits).

She looks at Alice, and sees the waiting in how she holds her shoulders (also sees the wanting, and the silent hoping). “Kiss me, then,” she says (maybe too softly for Alice to hear, but either way she complies, presses her open mouth against Lily’s closed one, and breathes and licks and waits until Lily opens her lips – and then sneaks inside carefully like a thief in the night). “Harder,” Lily mumbles into Alice’s mouth. Alice complies, presses her tongue forcefully into Lily’s. They don’t touch anywhere else – this is where Lily starts to think of it as a game, as a game of mock control and real wanting – only kiss, tongues and teeth and lips.

Lily pulls back. “Strip,” she breathes.

Alice gathers herself for a moment and slides off the couch – she moves more fluidly than Lily remembers, especially when she lets her hands linger over the buttons of her robe, lets her fingers dance languidly and lazily, as if she’s not really burning inside (as if Lily isn’t really burning inside). She exposes one shoulder, then waits and makes a point to look at Lily again in that way (Lily’s body is balancing again). The robe slides off her shoulders and falls to the floor – Alice is braless, and this shocks Lily. She wasn’t expecting the two firm, pale breasts standing perkily to attention to stare her in the face like that, almost challenging. It’s too much for one moment, Alice’s glorious shoulders naked and her hips and those breasts. Lily stares and Alice laughs (the tender throat again, the bouncing sound – and the breasts, moving freely and oh) and she’s still snickering when she lets her fingers trail from the edge of her ribcage to the elastics of her knickers.

She waits. Lily can only barely say it: “Take them off.”

Alice hooks her thumbs around the elastics and slowly drags them down to her ankles. She glances at Lily before stepping out of the knickers and kicking them to the side.

For a moment, there’s silence because Lily is too busy imagining herself buried in that dark triangle between Alice’s legs to say something. It’s breathtaking, the way Alice’s stomach curves down and her hips stick out a little (it’s a war and they don’t eat much, but it’s so beautiful the way it is because it’s Alice and she makes everything work) and her hands hover over her thighs. She’s slightly trembling.

Lily remembers that she should say something, but for a moment she’s not sure what; it already feels perfect with Alice standing there, offering up her body with her eyes full of light. It’s a sight that rocks Lily to the core and her cunt grows wetter and her body wants, wants (but she also wants to preserve this moment, this moment of Alice alone in the dim afternoon light filtering through the heavy blinds).

“Please,” she says, sick of commanding, “help me.” Alice steps forward and helps Lily unbutton her robe – their hands bump into each other and it takes more time than it would’ve if Lily had done it on her own, but they smile at each other and it’s good this way. Lily quickly discards of her soaked knickers – faster than Alice has, maybe because she’s a little self-conscious, not when she’s naked but when she’s in the act of getting naked (she’s always been that way).

They’re standing close together, not touching. Lily can feel the warmth of Alice’s body. “Hold me,” she says, and it’s a question, not a command. Alice tentatively places a hand on her upper arm and slides it upward to her shoulder; slowly, feeling to the fullest until her hand reaches the back of Lily’s neck. Then she suddenly presses her body to Lily’s and the sensation is almost too much – skin on skin, breasts pressing into each other, Alice’s pubic hair tickling Lily’s lower belly. “Fuck,” she says and feels as if she’s about to burst. “I really want you to fuck me,” she sighs into Alice’s neck, melting into the hug (feeling warm, feeling like a suicidal dancer on a rope; the rush, the danger (yet the safety net)).

“So do I,” Alice says breathlessly, and it’s the first thing she’s said since this (THIS) started and Lily’s stomach flutters and her cunt throbs – Alice’s voice, dripping with lust and sex.

They kiss briefly. “Then do,” Lily whines, shivering as Alice’s hands travel over her back, lightly scratching.

“Lie down,” Alice whispers, and Lily does, on this sofa, in this sorry-looking living room where they are, crowned in a light filtering in through the heavy blinds.

Alice settles herself between Lily’s legs, smiling. She leans forward to capture Lily’s mouth in a kiss that goes from calm to frenzied, and she massages Lily’s breasts, teasing the nipples to hardness. Lily moans into the kiss, her body thrumming, pressing her hips upward to gain some friction. Alice doesn’t break the kiss when she moves her hand down, pressing down on Lily’s pubic bone. Lily accidentally bites Alice’s lip at that, and Alice pulls back to laugh.

“You bit me!” she says grinning.

Lily only manages to say “Fuck,” but then Alice is serious again, and scoots down a bit to have better access to Lily’s cunt. She blows cool air on the flushed, pink flesh and Lily whines, hips restlessly moving. “I need –” she begins, but then Alice gently traces a finger over her folds and the words are drowned in a moan. Alice makes a strangled sound, dragging her finger from Lily’s clit to her entrance and back again, and again and again until Lily thinks this has got to be it, this has got to be the limit of what any woman could feel – and then Alice slips a finger into her cunt, leaving her thumb to massage her clit – and _no_ , it wasn’t the limit.

“Alice,” Lily gasps as a spot inside her is stimulated that she didn’t even know existed – Alice Alice Alice because that is all there is right now on this sofa in this sorry-looking living room; glorious Alice with her long fingers and at that Lily is coming, clamping around Alice’s fingers; wave upon wave of pleasure as Alice continues to stimulate her and it feels like her first orgasm (and in a way it is, in a way it really really is).

Lily doesn’t quite remember what happens afterwards, because she lets go then – all of her muscles go slack and she sinks into a deep relaxation. It’s like sleep, only she’s still aware of Alice above her, smiling. “Rest,” she whispers and Lily lets her eyes fall shut.

*

Lily owls Alice two days later: “Hey. It took me two hours to write this owl. Just wanted to say I though it was brilliant, all of it. Sorry I didn’t return any favours. Lily.”

Alice owls Lily, two days and two minutes later: “Hey. It was rather fabulous, wasn’t it? It’s okay, by the way; next time I’ll do the talking, how’s that? Alice.”

Lily, folding the parchment into the pocket of her robe, smiles widely into the empty room.


End file.
